Chapter 9 - Trapped in the Lion’s Den
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, watching the progress bar stall at 94%.
*95%... 98%...*
The handle rattled violently from the outside. A heavy fist banged against the wood.
“Leo? Open up, the boss wants the logistics report for the southern docks,” a gruff voice called out through the heavy oak. It was Marcus, one of Gabriel’s senior enforcers.
*100%. Complete.*
I ripped the flash drive out of the USB port just as the key clicked in the lock. Without a second thought, I dove behind the heavy velvet curtains draped over the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing my back flat against the cold glass as the door swung open.
“Leo? You in here?” Marcus’s heavy boots stepped into the room.
I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut, praying the thick velvet would conceal the slight outline of my silhouette against the morning light.
I heard the sound of papers shuffling on the desk, a heavy sigh, and the distinct sound of a lighter clicking open. A cloud of thick cigar smoke drifted across the room.
“Where the hell is he?” Marcus muttered to himself. “Boss is tearing the war room apart, and this bastard is wandering off.”
A moment later, heavy footsteps retreated toward the door, and the lock clicked shut again.
I let out a long, shuddering breath, sliding out from behind the curtains. My knees felt weak, and my left arm throbbed in protest against the sudden rush of adrenaline. I slipped out of Leo’s office, darted down the silent corridor, and made it back to the sanctuary of the master suite just as footsteps echoed up the main staircase.
I had the proof. Leo Vain was the traitor. But walking into the war room and handing Gabriel a flash drive wouldn't work. Gabriel was blinded by years of loyalty to his second-in-command; he would demand undeniable, face-to-face proof, or worse, he would suspect I had fabricated the data to eliminate a rival.
I needed to trap Leo in a corner so tight he couldn't talk his way out of it.
And I knew exactly how to do it.
I pulled out my burner phone, dialed a secure, pre-arranged number, and waited for the raspy voice on the other end to pick up.
“Julian,” I said quietly, pacing across the hardwood floor. “I need a favor. Call Viktor Vance. Tell him his mole inside the Russo syndicate—Leo Vain—is ready to negotiate the final handover of the Chicago shipping lanes tonight at the abandoned grain elevator by the lake. And tell him to bring proof of every dollar Leo transferred to his accounts.”
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Julian’s voice came back laced with shock. “Are you out of your mind, Clare? If Gabriel finds out you’re setting up a secret meeting with Viktor, he’ll execute you both on the spot.”
“Gabriel won't find out,” I whispered coldly. “Because I’m going to make sure he’s standing right beside me when Leo walks into the trap.”
